


Coping

by koushi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koushi/pseuds/koushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt, <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/17044.html?thread=34566292#t34566292">Yusuf tries to let go of Eames when he starts seeing Cobb, but there's no way he can completely</a>, on <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink">inception_kink</a>. Heavy on the angst and heartbreak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or any of its characters.

  
It’s wintertime in Mombassa, and the only physical evidence of the seasonal change—apart from the turning of a calendar page—is the cool breeze sweeping into the city from the north. It’s the first winter since Eames left, and Yusuf is still struggling to come to terms with a life without him. He doesn’t remember it being this cold the last few times around.

He knows the meaning of “rebound” and never thought the term would ever be applicable to himself. But as guilty as Yusuf feels for moving on so indiscriminately, Cobb is warm and solid and something to hold onto.

Cobb doesn’t seem to notice his residual sadness, or, if he does, he doesn’t show it. He hums a tune as he bakes an American dessert for Yusuf: apple cobbler, he says. “You’ll love it.”

It does smell good, he admits, as the scent wafts over him along with the pleasant heat from the oven. He’s always loved apples. But it triggers a twinge of nostalgia, like so many needle-pricks into his chest.

 _“Apple-scented cologne?” Eames asks quizzically. “Are you barmy?”_

 _“I thought you’d like it,” Yusuf replies sheepishly, shuffling his feet against the tiled floor of Eames’ flat._

 _“Er, I guess it seems a bit feminine for me,” he ponders, reading the labels on the small Granny Smith green box. “It’s enough_ being _a fruit that I don’t need to_ smell _like one too, don’t you think?”_

 _Yusuf swallows and stares hard at the ground. He really wanted to impress Eames this time, with something more personal, but, although accustomed to his brackish way of speaking, he can’t help but wallow in the dreadful sinking feeling that is disappointment._

 _But when Eames finally looks up, he realizes his folly. “No, no, no. Forget everything I said.” He embraces Yusuf, box still in hand. “I love it. Because it came from you.”_

The clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, and Yusuf and Cobb are sitting on his couch, watching the celebrations taking place in China, then India, then Iran on television. The cobbler was delicious and sweet, but he found his appetite a bit lacking. Cobb understood; he always understood, clearing away the unfinished dish with a sympathetic smile.

Cobb snakes his fingers into Yusuf’s, and it’s comforting having someone to hold onto. He wants to tell Cobb that he’s sorry, that he’s not worth the time, that a once broken vase—even when repaired—can’t hold water because the cracks… the cracks will never disappear. But for now he needs Cobb, and Cobb needs him.

When the time comes, Cobb retrieves a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and pops the cork with a proud thwomp. He pours the bubbly into two long-stemmed glasses and hands one to Yusuf.

“Happy New Year,” Cobb says, raising the glass for a toast and pulling him close.

“Happy New Year,” Yusuf whispers, closing his eyes and leaning in. He wonders if Eames is warm and safe wherever he is on this great Earth, and he wonders if Eames still thinks of him at times like this, when the champagne is fizzing impatiently in the chilled glasses like a beaker of his latest sedative.

 _“You take the first sip,” Eames urges with a grin. With his arm around him, he plants a kiss on Yusuf’s cheek, a loud smack to show that he is at least half-joking. “Never know what you might have slipped into these drinks.”_

 _Yusuf eyes him for a second and bursts out with a chuckle. “As if I’d ever need to drug you for some love. Sometimes I ponder chaining you to the bedpost, you’re so bloody enthusiastic.”_

 _Eames shrugs and gulps down the contents of his glass with one toss of his glass. He then commences to clutch his throat, pretending to be choking thanks to a handy spritz of imaginary arsenic. Yusuf does the only thing he can in the face of such tomfoolery: he whacks Eames with a pillow._

“What are you thinking about?” Cobb asks. Yusuf is lost in his reverie even after they break their kiss.

Yusuf manages what he believes to be a reassuring smile. “Us. Us, of course. And how lucky we are to have each other. How happy I am to start this New Year with you.”

Yusuf doesn’t like to lie. In fact, he abhors it. But he’s gotten considerably better at it in the past year. He’s had to learn to do a lot of things since Eames left… and coping is the hardest of all.


End file.
